


Stay With Me

by dementorsatemysoup



Series: Post Season Four [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Mickey, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They live in the Ghetto, people get hurt all the time, sometimes for no reason, and Mickey knows he’s not going to be an exception."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bugging me for a bit.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you have the time, and I don't own 'em.
> 
> Bye!!

"Stay with me," Ian says that morning while Mickey pulls on a pair of jeans. The redhead lays in bed, propping his head up with a bent elbow, a small, flirty smile on his face.

After weeks of semi-catatonic Ian, seeing the redhead up and talking is still a little overwhelming to Mickey, but he reels in his emotions. The last thing he needs is to start sobbing like a bitch all over Ian.

He flashes the younger boy a playful smirk, yanking a random t-shirt on over his head (he’s pretty sure it’s Ian’s), and says, “You can survive a couple hours without me. Besides, Kev’s covered for my ass the past three days, man, I’m just returning the favor.”

"You’re such a loyal friend, Mick," Ian teases grinning when Mickey flips him off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the brunet pulls his left boot on, feeling an arm snake around his waist, fingers lightly running up his side, causing him to jerk.

"Quit it," he says lacing up his boot. He hears Ian chuckle, his fingers stilling, and Mickey pulls on his right boot. He jerks a second time, Ian’s fingers moving again, and he quickly turns, tackling the younger boy off the bed.

* * *

 

"Say with me," Kevin says from above Mickey, holding a dish towel to the knife wound seeping blood from his stomach. "Come on, man." He presses harder into the wound, pain making Mickey whither on the floor. Never, in his eighteen years, has an injury scared him like this one does.

He’s not even sure what had happened, but one moment he’s telling two of his girls to get back to work and the next he’s got a knife in his gut. Now, his vision’s blurring around the edges, he can hardly keep his eyes open, and the only thing on his mind is Ian’s smiling face this morning, and how he will probably never going to see it again.

He feels something hot spill from the corner of his eye, down his forehead, and into his hair, something he refuses to admit is a tear, even if he’s bleeding to death.

"You’re not bleeding to death," Kevin says, voice gruff, shaking hands pushing harder into the wound. "And has somebody called a fucking ambulance yet!"

* * *

 

"Stay with me," a young EMT says as Mickey is loaded onto a stretcher. He’s too far gone to respond verbally, but he’s pretty sure he tries to grunt anyway.

He hears the other EMT rattle off some numbers, no doubt his vitals, but he’s floating in between consciousness and unconsciousness and hardly takes in what anyone is saying.

But, for some reason, he hears Kevin clearly say, “I’m calling Ian for ya, Mick!”

Mickey doesn’t want Kevin to call Ian, and it’s not because he doesn’t want to see the redhead; some days Ian is the only person he wants to see. It’s because he doesn’t want Ian to worry, doesn’t want Ian to see him like this, doesn’t want Ian to see him die.

"You’re not going to die." He thinks the EMT says, but darkness quickly consumes him, keeping him from being sure.

* * *

 

"Stay with me," he hears a familiar voice say from above. His head feels fuzzy, his body numb, and he wonders who did what to get him on the good drugs. He also would be lying if he said he isn’t surprised he’s alive. Agonizingly slow, he opens his eyes. He blinks twice, clearing his vision, and turns his head to see Ian leaning over him.

"Mickey?" he’s voice is soft, right hand seeking out Mickey’s, wrapping his fingers around the older boy’s. "You’re wake."

Mickey swallows, his throat dry, and hoarsely asks, “Did Kev blow a nurse or something?”

"What?" A startled half-sob/half-laugh escapes Ian’s lips, his free hand rubbing at his eyes.

"Just wonderin’ about the drugs," Mickey states letting his eyes slip closed. He feels a pair of warm lips press into a forehead, Ian’s hand still in his, but before he can tell him to let his hand go, he’s asleep again.

* * *

 

"Stay with me?" Mickey asks curiously, almost shyly, from his bed. He’s propped up with pillows, bored out of his mind, but Ian’s being a mother hen the likes of which Mickey has never seen, and the last thing he wants is to upset him.

"Of course," Ian says with a small smile, relief that Mickey is there, is alive, evident in his eyes. He crawls into bed with the older boy, leaning his head against his shoulder, carefully putting Mickey’s arm around him. Ian’s breath is warm against Mickey’s neck when he softly says, "Don’t get hurt again."

Mickey wants to say he won’t, wants to reassure Ian that he’ll never put the redhead through this again, but he knows he can’t. They live in the Ghetto, people get hurt all the time, sometimes for no reason, and Mickey knows he’s not going to be an exception.

So, instead, he says, “I’ll always come back to you.” It’s cheesy and sappy and so fucking girly, but it’s the truth, and Mickey hopes it’ll be enough.


End file.
